Saturday, September 13, 2014

Arcadia -
To that gaunt House of Art which lacks for naught
Of all the great things man has saved from Time,
The withered body of a girl was brought
Dead ere the world's glad youth had touched its prime,
And seen by lonely Arabs lying hid
In the dim wound of some black pyramid.
But when they had unloosed the linen band
Which swathed the Egyptian's body,- lo! was found
Closed in the wasted hollow of her hand
A little seed, which sown in English ground
Did wondrous snow of starry blossoms bear,
And spread rich odors through our Autumn air.
With such strange arts this flower did allure
That all forgotten was the asphodel,
And the brown bee, the lily's paramour,
Forsook the cup where he was wont to dwell,
For not a thing of earth it seemed to be,
But stolen from some heavenly Arcadia.
In vain the sad narcissus, wan and white
At its own beauty, hung across the stream,
The purple dragon-fly had no delight
With its gold-dust to make his wings a-gleam,
Ah! no delight the jasmine-bloom to kiss,
Or brush the rain-pearls from its eucharist.
For love of it the passionate nightingale
Forgot the hills of Thrace, the cruel king,
And the pale dove no longer cared to sail
Through the wet woods at time of blossoming,
But round this flower of Egypt sought to float,
With silvered wing and amethystine throat.
While the hot sun blazed in his tower of blue
A cooling wind crept from the land of snows,
And the warm south with tender tears of dew
Drenched its white leaves when Hesperos uprose
Amid those sea-green meadows of the sky
On which the scarlet bars of sunset lie.
But when o'er wastes of lily-haunted field
The tired birds had stayed their amorous tune,
And broad and glittering like an argent shield
High in the sapphire heavens hung the moon,
Did no strange dream or evil memory make
Each tremulous petal of its blossoms shake?
Ah no! to this bright flower a thousand years
Seemed but the lingering of a summer's day,
It never knew the tide of cankering fears
Which turn a boy's gold hair to withered gray,
The dread desire of death it never knew,
Or how all folk that they were born must rue.
For we to death with pipe and dancing go,
Nor would we pass the ivory gate again,
As some sad river wearied of its flow
Through the dull plains, the haunts of common men,
Leaps lover-like into the terrible sea!
And counts it gain to die so gloriously.
We mar our lordly strength in barren strife
With the world's legions led by clamorous care,
It never feels decay but gathers life
From the pure moonlight and the supreme air,
We live beneath Time's wasting sovereignty,
I the child of eternity...

About Me

I'm a semi-retired musician/entertainer who creates and performs his/her own music, writer, artist, painter, photographer, mathematician and I’m into making movies with high def video cameras. My taste in music is eclectic I listen to and can play most contemporary genres.
Before my musical career I’ve been an RN, phlebotomist, and was successful in a number of blue collar professions. I have several college degrees but mastered in mathematics. Also I'm very into computer science and the Internet. I’m a voracious reader, reading about two nonfiction books a week.
My goal for 2015 is to create a solid presence for both me and my works on the internet.
Personally I’m extremely atypical with a strong sense of self. I also have a genuine mind-set regarding the human condition. I don’t hate but rather feel love for everything except for humanities inhumanity it seems for every existing thing on the planet.
At this time I’m searching ubiquitously for my soul mate.
I hope that this epistle finds you and yours both healthy and in high spirits.
Cheers,
Adrian Alexis